Directions to Soulsville, USA

Whether you take I-55, Hwy 51, I-240, Hwy 61, I-40 or whether you take the Old Bridge or the New Bridge, it all takes you to the same place: Soulsville, USA.

the best remedy for anything is Highway 55/
you head across the River/
to the Arkansas side...

~Anna K.

One of the first songs I wrote.

Soulsville USA, to me, is also a state of mind. As I delve more into being more authentic, it carries a deeper meaning each time I say it.

I consider Memphis my home away from home. I grew up in a small town in North Mississippi named Hernando. Home of The North Mississippi All-Stars, Garrison Starr, Robert Wilkins and Jim Jackson...and me. Ha! :) It's nestled between Soulsville USA and the Mississippi Delta. When I was a kid, it was a small town of 4,000 people at the very most.

Hernando is now officially a bedroom community, with close to 12,000 people, located just off of I-55 (or Hwy 51 if you like slow two-laners) just about 20 minutes south of Memphis. This is where my journey began and its course runs deep.

It reminds me of a quote from Mississippi writer, David Cohn, who said:

"The Delta begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis
and ends on Catfish Row in Vicksburg."

Before I go too much further, please note I'm not going to attempt a history lesson. (Other people have done that, much better than I could, but I do know my fair share!)

People can say what they want, but it seems my rose-colored shades immediately materialize when I say the name Memphis. I do expect a little ridicule from my friend, Jeff, who lived there for a long time and absolutely hates it. He said, "We live in the Bible Belt and Memphis is the ass hole."

I will never forget that as long as I live! It's not a perfect city, by any means, but I love it, regardless.

Before things get going, it is my staunch recommendation that you go online and buy this album immediately:

There are 12 new and used for $2.80 on Amazon, so they'ain't no excuse for you not to have it in your car, on your iPod or somehow, somewhere on your person. I'm juss sayin'.

My two favorite classes at the University of Memphis were Memphis Music and Songwriting/Publishing. Dr. David Evans taught the Memphis Music class and Danny Jones taught part of the Songwriting class.

Each had its own pull for me. In Danny's class: how can I resist being told that we had to listen, analyze and be tested on the album "Thriller" and its production/recording techniques?! He played those songs for us as we sat there, thoroughly amused (needless to say) and mentally confirming we'd chosen the right major after all, naysayers be damned!

Danny then put in another CD called Memphis Soul Classics. My life was never the same again. That sparked my love affair with Memphis. Danny talked about Malaco and Muscle Shoals, we listened to Wilson Pickett, The Box Tops, Booker T and the MGs along with gems from Hi Records.

As far as the Memphis Music class, Dr. Evans, helped nurture my love for early blues recordings. You almost hear more scratchiness from the old recordings themselves than from the guitarist's fingernails on the strings. Handy's Mr. Crump and Memphis Blues. Stories of five Handy bands playing at five different parties and he'd make an appearance at each one before the night was over. Gus Cannon and Jim Jackson. It's good stuff. I'm tellin' you, it's good stuff.

Memphis got its name "Soulsville USA" during the heyday of Stax Records, after the advent of Sun.

I wrote a paper on Jim Dickinson for Dr. Evans' class. I grew up with his boys. Jim told me how he'd listen to a radio station that was just across the river in West Memphis, Arkansas while he was under the covers at night with his flashlight. He was over there and saw Howlin' Wolf walk out of the studio. Heard the Memphis Jug Band on Beale Street. How when the Rolling Stones landed at the Memphis airport, Furry Lewis went to greet them. They sat down right on the tarmac and began playing music.

This ain't child's play. This is Memphis. (I only use the word "ain't" when it's appropriate...and it is.)

I was at a Halloween party in Midtown several years ago and started talking to a lady named Connie. She worked in the office at Stax Records when Otis Redding recorded Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay. They all stood around and listened to the track and thought..."Wow." Hardly a week later, he died in a plane crash.

For the past four years, I worked in the same office as Tim Whitsett, the man in charge of Stax Records publishing, became friends with songwriter George Jackson and worked for the men who recorded Mr. Big Stuff.

That's full circle for me in a big way.

...to be continued...